Hope
by Aria Aurora
Summary: He gave a home for a lost alien princess, and a safe haven for a drugged lost soul. He wasn't made of hope himself, but at least he could give it to another; and maybe that was what hope was anyway.


Roy Harper liked to joke around that it was _hope_ that brought Jason back from the grave. Dick would ruffle Jason's hair as if Jason was ten years old again and would say that it was_hope_ that brought his little brother back into Dick's arms. That someone up there had heard Dick's prayers, and rose Jason from the grave. Bruce, well, he didn't really talk about Jason a lot, if anything he would like not to speak about his upcoming, but rather Jason now. To Jason, there was no such thing as _hope_.

Jason did not understand was _hope_ was. Hope was not Jason's beating with a crowbar, hope was not seeing the numbers go down ticking away his last moments, and hope was not him feeling every dirt and wood chip under his nails as he clawed his way from his grave. Was _hope_ watching your father be driven away by police cops, and holding your mothers dead, drugged up body in your tiny arms far too small to reach the door knob but enough to grasp the cold hand of your mother? _Hope_ was not stealing the tires of the Batmobile, that was greed, that was Jason being a little shit. Maybe hope was Bruce taking in Jason, turning him from a street rat to a rich kid. Well what good did that do, got him dead.

Jason did not believe in hope, but to him he would imagine that it was probably something beige, or nude. Something not pure white, or pure black, not Heaven but not Hell; nor Purgatory but something simple. Hope was something children would tell their parents, and rich people would tell the poor, and students would tell their teachers that I hope you get better and I hope everything will be alright. Hope was certainly not sitting on the couch with your drunken best friend puking his guts out to a bucket underneath him. That was not hope, at least Jason hoped it wasn't, for it smelled really bad.

If it wasn't drugs, it was drinking, if it wasn't drinking it was fighting. Hope was not Jason beating up a couple of scum bags to defend your drunken friend, that was just Jason being a good friend. Finally when Roy was spent, Jason had taken him to bed. Something about a drunken best friend really made Jason mad, but he couldn't take it out on Roy, he could never get angry at Roy; maybe that was hope. But it isn't Jason putting on the Red Hood of his, and hoping onto his bike. He couldn't beat up the already black and blue Roy, so he might as well go on patrol to beat up some scum bag. He hasn't been on the streets for a while now. His cell phone was clutched tightly at his hip, least Roy woke up and would called Jason for something; last thing Jason wanted to do was to miss a phone call from Roy.

The night was cold, but filled with sounds. Animals, people, cars, buildings, nature, everything made their own sound. Until a scream cracked Jason's tranquility. With a roar, Jason road off to the area. If there is something that burns his veins, and freezes his heart it would children, and woman being taken advantage of. Maybe it steamed from his mother, maybe it came from his death as a child. Maybe because he never really had a childhood, and he was kind of a jack ass to Tim so it's no wonder his brother hates Jason, and he wasn't exactly a good brother to Dick but something about some big, buff male beating up a woman really made Jason see red. A woman who was vulnerable at least, he knows that if some male tried to take on Koriand'r or Helena they would stand no chance, hell Jason was sure he wouldn't stand a chance.

"I suggest you put her down, or you won't even have an arm."

Jason had found him. He was tall, muscle head, and had his hand around a females throat. Jason held his gun out, ready and aimed. He didn't want to hit the female, or scare her off, his anger was for the male in question. The female was wearing a purple suit; pencil skirt and Mary-Jane shoes. Perhaps she was coming home from a late work, who knows but Jason pulled the trigger, hitting the male's elbow. Causing him to shout in pain, and to drop the scared woman on the ground. The woman got out quickly, and out of the way, for Jason wasn't nearly finished. He walked up towards the hurt male, his gun cocked. He kneeled down, gripped the males hair to stare him in the eyes as he shot the genitals, then he went for the knee-caps, and then he decided to have some fun and shot at the base of the fingers; and when his bullets went out he whacked the male against the head with his gun. He would die bleeding on the ground, just like he deserved to be.

Jason was covered in blood, blood splattered the walls and blood splattered the ground. He looked over the scared woman hiding at a corner. She didn't know whether to thank him, or to run from him. She was scared, and probably couldn't go home on her own like this. Jason put his gun back into his holder, there were no bullets left anyway, and held out a hand to the her. "I won't hurt you. I promise." Jason being nice was something he was not good at, he wasn't even nice to Koriand'r but it wasn't like Kori didn't have a snake tongue of her own, but this was a female who was about to be raped, and killed, not some alien chick who can kick his ass into the next planet. It seemed to work, for the female took his hand and let out a shakily thank you.

He put on his motorcycle, giving her the extra helmet he carried. Dick was very very persistent on having a helmet, Jason never wore it but he bought it just to make Dick finally shut the fuck up. He asked her for her name. Jane. She worked for Wayne Industries, and lived an hour away from the place. He had driven her home in about no time, and even stalked the area for thirty minutes just to make sure it wasn't some hit. It wasn't unusual for other rich people to hire mercenaries to take out other rich people. Deciding there was no danger he got on his bike and left back to his home.

Jason wondered as he opened the door, and stripped of his bloody clothes. He saw the fear in her eyes, and he saw the gratefulness in them when he saved her. He saw _hope_. He smiled slightly, stepping into the shower. He had saved Jane, and as the water washed away his own fear, and guilt he saw that he had given hope to another person. That not all men are rapist, and there are people who kill, but are good. He didn't believe that it was hope for him to come back to the living saying good bye to the grim reaper, but he believed that he came into this life to give hope. He gave a home for a lost alien princess, and a safe haven for a drugged lost soul. He wasn't made of hope himself, but at least he could give it to another.

And maybe that was what _hope_ was anyway.


End file.
